


Tangled Up in Lines

by thegreatpumpkin



Series: A Heart Can't Be Helped [1]
Category: The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M, Twincest, dirty telepathy, psychic twins
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-01
Updated: 2015-10-01
Packaged: 2018-04-24 05:29:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,117
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4907233
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thegreatpumpkin/pseuds/thegreatpumpkin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Elrohir had never been so smug about winning twenty dollars in his life. Or: threesomes with Rohirric cowboys, accidental dirty talk, patience vs. obedience, and failed attempts at poetry.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tangled Up in Lines

**Author's Note:**

> This is set approximately four years before Nights and Weekends. I kept alluding to Elladan's affinity for dirty talk, and began wondering when that started—and then I started thinking about modern-day Rohirrim as Midwestern horse folks and this happened.
> 
> As ever, [ouroboros](http://archiveofourown.org/users/ouroboros/) is best beta.

Technically, they were city boys, but you didn’t grow up a Hoosier without knowing a few horse people. Or—a lot of horse people, some of whose barns you’d partied in as a teenager, some of whose sisters maybe dated your brother for a month in senior year, some of whom had always been cute back in the day but were looking _damn fine_ at twenty-five.

Leofric belonged in some kind of goddamned cowboy charity calendar, with his golden-brown hair and second-day stubble. His boots were steel-toed workboots, not Western, but he wore a plaid shirt without irony and his jeans were beat up and faded in a way that only came from riding. Elrohir hadn’t seen him in years, though the aforementioned sister had kept them marginally up-to-date, including about his coming out. (Elrohir hadn’t come out till the following summer, but he realized later that she’d probably already known when she'd told him, maybe had even been trying to set them up. Ah, well, hindsight.)

They’d run into Leofric at dinner, got to talking about old times and mutual acquaintances. Elladan was usually more for women, but there had been an instant spark between him and Leofric; after less than fifteen minutes, he was giving his brother meaningful looks. _Can we?_

Elrohir was usually the one who chose for them, since Elladan rarely had strong opinions about it. Leofric had plenty of appeal on his own, but the fact that Elladan wanted him made him suddenly irresistible. _You have to ask?_ And then, since this was not their usual way of doing things— _You take the lead, though._

They went for drinks and the conversation shifted from the past to the present. Leofric was, as it happened, very much single at the moment. He was also an extremely interesting conversationalist, so Elladan took his time, letting things spin out naturally. Elrohir enjoyed watching him work, and evidently so did Leofric; it was not so very long before his arm was slung around the back of Elladan’s seat, not touching him but making a statement all the same. Now it was Elrohir’s turn; he’d been dropping signals, too, of course, but since they were in a booth with Elladan and Leofric on one side and him opposite, his were less obvious than his brother’s.

 _You could ask about his tattoo._ Elladan winked at him, and he tried to pretend that the sudden increase in his heart rate was only anticipation.

"When did you get the tattoo?" Elrohir, all innocence, reached across and caught Leofric’s hand, turning it palm-up to examine the writing on his forearm. Song lyrics, maybe, it looked like— _I never been tied to no apron strings; I ain't no devil, but I got no wings_. Not exactly literary gold, but the script was nicely done, beautiful to look at if not deeply meaningful. Elrohir let the pad of his thumb brush along Leofric’s heart line idly as he looked, and Leofric curled his fingers, holding him there.

"Couple of years ago. It's from _Songs of the Sage_. Cowboy poetry from the thirties." _Oh god_ , thought Elrohir—no wonder Elladan was practically in his lap. A cowboy poet! It was as if he'd been designed to Elladan's very exacting specifications.

There was a brief charged silence, wherein Elrohir pretended to study the tattoo, and Leofric watched him openly.

_He's going to ask._

Elladan scoffed. _He's not. That only happens in porn, not in real life. We're going to have to say something. We always have to say it first._

_Ten bucks. He's going to._

_Twenty says he's not._

Elrohir started to lean back, but Leofric caught his wrist, holding him there. Elrohir noticed that he'd shifted his other arm so that it was now actually across Elladan's shoulders, not just resting on the ledge behind him. Leofric’s gaze was suddenly hot; he was not drunk yet, but maybe a little recklessly buzzed. "I have to be honest. I've always wondered what it would be like—I mean, do the two of you ever—"

_HA._

Elrohir had never been so smug about winning twenty dollars in his life.

***

 _That’s right, I want to hear you. You like that, don’t you, when he thrusts just **there**_ —

Elrohir cried out, but it wasn’t from Leofric’s sudden change in angle (although that was nice, _really_ nice, he could keep doing that for about a hundred years _please and fucking thank you_ ). It was Elladan’s silent encouragement that sparked the sudden heat in him. Elladan never—he _never_ used their connection that way, never even acknowledged what was between them most of the time. The words were incitement enough, but the _hunger_ lurking behind them made Elrohir ache to answer.

“Yes—there—ah, _fuck_ —” he said aloud, for Leofric’s benefit. And then, for Elladan’s— _You want to hear me, do you?_ He was sure he sounded desperately breathless, though of course it didn’t take breath to speak that way.

Elladan froze, his shock hitting Elrohir like a torrent of cold water.

Since he _had_ been pressed against Leofric’s back, kissing and biting his neck, his sudden tenseness put a bit of a wrench in the works. Leofric stopped moving, twisting around to look back over his shoulder. “What? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. Sorry.” Elladan shifted, his face burning. “I—did something to my knee yesterday. Just leaned on it wrong.”

“Are you okay?” Leofric, bless him, was all concern. Elrohir tried not to be irritated with both of them and failed completely.

Elladan leaned in again and kissed Leofric, smiling sheepishly. “Fine. Sorry. You should probably get back to what you were doing before Ro strangles us both.”

Leofric turned back to Elrohir, who was pointedly _not_ looking at his brother. “ _You_ okay?”

“I was,” he said wryly, “until you stopped. Next time he’s not invited.”

"Harsh." Leofric laughed low in his throat and began to thrust again. Elrohir made a quiet approving sound and—once Leofric was distracted—met Elladan’s eyes over his shoulder. _What exactly were you expecting?_

Elladan ducked away from his gaze, pressing open-mouthed kisses down Leofric’s spine. _I didn't mean to—that wasn't supposed to be—_

 _What?_ Elrohir slid his hands into Leofric’s hair when he bent low for a kiss, oblivious to the conversation happening around him.

_I didn't mean for you to hear it._

The admission created a sudden wealth of possibilities in Elrohir's mind. Was Elladan always thinking such things, when they...? He nipped at Leofric’s lips, fingers tightening in his hair as the thought burned through him. He tried not to imagine Elladan in Leofric’s place (he always tried not to when they shared, because it wasn't fair to any of them, least of all the person they were with), but imagining him saying wicked things over Leofric’s shoulder seemed less of a transgression. Then again—why imagine?

 _Do it again,_ he demanded. _Talk to me._

Elladan's immediate answer was wordless: a deep hesitation, but behind it, again, that _hunger._ Elrohir dug his nails into Leofric’s shoulders and tried again. _Talk to me, Elladan._ He hesitated a moment, not wanting to push too far, but he might not have another chance. _Come on. You know what I like._

Elladan didn’t respond right away, but there was some shift in him, things set in motion. "Come back here, I can't reach you," he said to Leofric, pulling the man back against him. Leofric grinned, letting himself be manhandled without so much as a pause in his rhythm. It was subtle, but the way Elladan shifted him put Leofric at the same angle that Elrohir had so enjoyed earlier. _I do know what you like._

Elrohir rewarded this small concession with a moan, but it was not enough. _Then_ **_talk_** _to me. If you want to hear me—_

Elladan dragged his short nails down Leofric’s chest, making him shudder. His lips were on Leofric’s neck, but his eyes were on his brother. _What do you want me to say?_

Elrohir mentally cursed Elladan’s reluctance. This was not, honestly, an area where he should have to coach him. _Anything. Fuck, just—do what you were doing before. Tell me what you like. Tell me what you want._

 _Fine._ Elladan paused for a long moment, and Elrohir nearly gave up on him, turning his full attention back to Leofric. But then— _I like...I like the way he touches you. The way he makes you react to the littlest things._

Elrohir grinned, eyes half-shut and his head tipped back. That would do, for a start. _The man definitely knows what he’s doing._

 _I noticed._ Elladan’s hands roamed, an unconscious imitation of the skill he admired; Leofric tipped his head back against Elladan’s shoulder for a moment, clearly appreciating his efforts. _And I—God, I love watching the two of you kiss. It’s—_ he seemed to search for the word he wanted, then gave up, settling for— _it’s really fucking hot._

Elrohir reached for Leofric, catching his chin when he bent near enough and pulling him into a drawn-out, heated kiss. After several moments he wound his arms around Leofric’s shoulders, holding him there; Elladan shifted a little to watch, pressing himself distractedly against Leofric’s hip as his fingers played idly along his spine. Elrohir was always vocal, but something about the muffled noises he made into the kiss sent flashes of heat searing through Elladan, heat he shared with Elrohir. _That,_ he said helplessly. _I like that._

When the kiss broke apart at last, Elrohir tangled his hand in Leofric’s hair, murmuring silkily against his ear though he was addressing his brother. “He’s pretty, isn’t he, Elladan?”

“ _Fuck_ yes, he’s pretty.” Elladan’s hand had wandered down from Leofric’s spine to splay over the muscular curve of his ass, kneading gently as Leofric moved.

“The two of you are gonna kill me,” Leofric laughed, sounding dazed.

“And miss out on—wait, wait, like _that_ , _yes_!” It took Elrohir several moments to remember to finish his sentence, not that any of them minded. “Miss out on more of this? I don’t think so.”

“Can’t promise it won’t be a close thing, though,” Elladan teased, and Leofric groaned, laughing.

“What did I get myself into?”

“I think you can handle us, cowboy.” Elrohir winked up at him.

 _He has no idea how much of a handful you can be,_ Elladan observed wryly. There was something suddenly different about his tone, something more...certain? that sent anticipation prickling across Elrohir’s skin. There was a beat of silence, and then Elladan rewarded his patience. _Touch yourself. Slowly. I want to see you enjoy it._

Elrohir obeyed, his eyes ablaze, though his gaze was still trained on Leofric. _You like me like this?_

Elladan turned Leofric’s head, licking a stripe up his neck to his earlobe, without looking at Elrohir. His answer was hesitant, dredged up as if he didn’t quite want to admit it. _Yes. But I like you better further gone._ He paused for a long moment, then finally added— _Incoherent. Begging._

Elrohir let his head fall back, his breathing fast. _You could have had me out of my mind and pleading, if you’d started talking sooner._

Elladan made a half-choked sound, grinding his hips forward against Leofric’s back. Leofric laughed, reaching back to catch him by the hair, turning his head to growl in Elladan’s ear. “Wait your turn, Peredhel. Even if I can handle you both, it doesn’t mean I can be in two places at once.”

“I’m bad at waiting. And I did see you first.” He bit down at the join of neck and shoulder. “Hurry up.” His eyes went to Elrohir again. _Not you. Take your time. Don’t even think of coming until I tell you you can._

Elrohir flushed hot, and thought that _incoherent and begging_ was maybe not so far off after all.

“What do you think? Should we take pity on your brother? Turn over.” Leofric tapped Elrohir’s hip and shifted over him as he rolled, bracing himself in preparation to fuck Elrohir hard and fast, but Elrohir shook his head even as he knelt up and leaned back into him.

“I told you he wasn’t invited next time. Make him wait. I want it slow and deep.”

“Wicked,” Leofric murmured, and pressed back inside him. “Remind me not to get on your bad side.” He began moving again in long, controlled thrusts that made Elrohir sigh and close his eyes in bliss, dropping his head to rest on one forearm while the other hand returned to his cock. Elladan shifted to one side of them, reclining there and pretending boredom, but he had a much better view from his changed position.

_Slow and deep, hmm? Not the way you usually like it. Did you develop patience when I wasn’t looking?_

Elrohir opened his eyes and moaned, deliberately, his gaze fixed on Elladan. _Not patience, just obedience._ He watched Elladan’s sudden intake of breath with immense satisfaction. _If he_ _kept going like that and you_ _kept talking, there’s no way I’d be waiting for permission._

Elladan looked away, skin flushed and eyes fever-bright. _Is that why you don’t top? You like being told what to do?_

Elrohir didn’t bother correcting him (he didn’t top _often_ , but not _never_ , and he was certainly more in the business of telling than being told). Instead, before he could stop himself, he said, _No. It’s because I like you watching me get fucked. I want you to imagine what it would be like if—if you were the one doing it._

It was stupid of him. His common sense had been more or less obliterated by Leofric’s touches and Elladan’s words, but that crossed the line and he knew it. Elladan recoiled from him, emotionally if not physically—but not quickly enough to keep Elrohir from feeling his reaction. Not revulsion, or horror; but guilt, and heat, and frantic, frenzied _need_.

 _You want that. You want it to be you._ It wasn't that Elrohir hadn’t known, but...he hadn't been sure, not really. Hadn't quite believed, despite the evidence, that Elladan desired him the same way (and to the same frightening degree) that he desired Elladan. The knowledge made him reckless, pushing when he should have backed off, his voice echoing eager in Elladan's mind even as Elladan shifted away from him, putting Leofric between them again. _You want it as much as I do._

 ** _Don't_** _, Elrohir._ And then there was nothing; not even the vague, passive knowledge of his brother's presence he always had when they were near one another. Elladan had shut him out completely.

He supposed he deserved it.

He would have to make amends later, though. For now, there was Leofric moving into him slow and deep, just like he’d asked for. Leofric, who didn’t so much moan as make satisfied little growling sounds, and _fuck_ if that wasn’t sexy. Leofric, who’d been nothing but patient, easygoing, and eager, and who really deserved Elrohir’s undivided attention. (There was also the confirmation that Elladan wanted him just as badly as he wanted Elladan, and it seemed that no amount of guilt about his behavior—or about what Leofric deserved—was going to cool his body’s reaction to the knowledge.)

So he rocked his hips back, let his voice break on a moan, let this be like any of the other times without Elladan present. And Leofric made it worth his while, he really did; in fact, he made a damn solid case for _slow and deep_ when Elrohir was usually all about _hard and fast_. He could almost forget Elladan was there, especially without the usual hum of his presence. He couldn’t forget what he _knew_ , but—God help him, knowing made it better in a way.

He should have gone over fast, as turned on as he was. But Leofric took his time, working him up to the peak little by little (he was surprisingly good at reading his signals, for a first encounter). Inch by inch, until Elrohir was close, so close, gasping obscenities against the bedsheets, with Leofric’s hands tight on his hips.

Then—suddenly—Elladan was back in his awareness. Drawn there like—Elrohir didn’t have a good analogy. Like a moth to a porch light. Like a magnet to a refrigerator. Fuck it, like Elrohir to failed attempts at poetry. The point was—and this Elrohir felt very keenly—that Elladan couldn’t help himself. That he couldn’t bear to keep Elrohir shut out.

 _Inexorable_ , Elrohir thought, that was the word he wanted—and then he wasn’t thinking at all, because Elladan’s voice was in his head, whiting out everything else and pushing him over the edge.

_**Now** , Elrohir._

_I need to hear you._

***

Leofric had to leave early. He offered them a dimpled grin and a strong insinuation that they should do this again sometime before heading out into the daylight. Once he had gone they lay silently on opposite sides of Elladan’s bed, looking away from one another, the early morning sun slanting across their bodies.

Elrohir broke first, rolling over to look at his brother, though he kept his distance. Elladan was flat on his back, gazing distantly at the ceiling, and did not acknowledge him.

He looked for a long time, as if he could read something useful in Elladan’s profile, but there was no expression to decipher. When he finally ventured a question, his voice was soft and hoarse with sleep. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Elladan sighed, then stretched long and languid, his joints popping as he splayed his fingers and reached above his head. It seemed like a casual gesture, but Elrohir knew it for what it was: a delaying tactic. “No,” he said after a long interval, without looking at Elrohir.

Well, it was a better response than Elrohir had hoped for. Not immediate, not defensive; measured. He took a leap. “Do you want to do it again?”

Elladan turned away, curling his arms across his chest. Silence, again; Elrohir had misjudged. The little bit he could have of his brother—these times with someone shared between them—and he had ruined it. Why couldn’t he ever leave well enough alone? Why couldn’t he—

“Yes.”

 _Inexorable_ , Elrohir thought again, jubilant and disbelieving; then he got up and dressed in a hurry. There were plenty more boundaries to push, and his natural inclination was to push them; best to leave now before he did anything else he’d regret.

Elladan didn’t watch him go, but Elrohir’s phone buzzed a text notification before he even made it to the street; he didn’t have to look to know who it was from.


End file.
